


Crushed Get Away

by infectedscrew



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Finger Fucking, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, auto accident, using sex as a distraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 02:08:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6781054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infectedscrew/pseuds/infectedscrew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drive through Bludhaven's back streets does not go the way Tim planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The worst part about driving in Bludhaven was the fact that it was Bludhaven. There couldn’t be another place on Earth that had as much traffic as Nightwing’s territory. How all these people had cars was beyond Tim. He hated to sound rude but, weren’t most of them poor? Which meant that they shouldn’t have cars in the first place. Then again, it was very possible that all the cars were simply stolen and this was just one long, seriously drawn out car chase sans police. Whatever the reason for the disturbingly thick traffic, Tim had promised that he would visit Dick tonight.

Traffic or no traffic.

A heavy sigh pulled out of Tim’s throat. He was squeezing the steering wheel of his car, willing the woman in front of him to stop doing her make-up and drive. No such luck and slamming his forehead against the steering wheel sounded like a very good idea right now.

“Oracle.” He finally gave in and called the big guns. “Please tell me you know some short cuts or alternate routes.”

There was a chuckle from his radio speakers. “I was waiting for you to give in,” Barbara’s scrambled voice teased him. “Sure, I’ve got some. At the light above you swing a left.”

“But that takes me toward Gotham,” Tim observed, glancing at the millions of road signs.

Bludhaven had far too many road signs and most of them were useless.

“Right, Boy Wonder,” she returned, snark in every syllable. “Take the left then, at the two way intersection you’ll bump into, take the right. It’ll take you right out of the city and around the edges.”

Another sigh. “That’s right where I want to be. On the edge of America’s most dangerous city,” he grumbled into his steering wheel.

“Technically, Bludhaven is a suburb,” she chimed.

“Don’t you have a canary’s song to listen to?” He asked, glowering at his radio.

Barbara laughed once more. “Getting poetic. You have to stop hanging out with Alfred. Well, tell Dick hello for me,” she said before there was an audible click and she was gone.

_“Robbery in progress! On 6th Avenue and Hawthorne! All available agents in pursuit.”_

Keeping his grumblings to a minimum, he turned at the light. The traffic didn’t look like he was getting better but the closer he got to the intersection, the fewer cars there seemed to be. Also, the houses seemed to be looking grungier the closer he got. He ignored the buildings and took a sharp right. The road beyond was completely empty.

_“Suspect is on the move! I repeat, suspect is on the move. A white male in a Mazda 300 going North Bound.”_

There was no stopping the smile that blossomed over his face. Now he could drive! Gripping the wheel with something other than anger, he pressed the pedal down. He could almost laugh at good it felt to be driving like a normal person was gone. No cars in his way. No morons using their car like a portable house instead of a vehicle of motion.

_“Vehicle has turned left on Gleesan taking back corridor toward Gotham. All available units! Repeat, all available units!”_

He could drive and there was nothing to stop him.

_“Vehicle has crashed! Repeat! Vehicle has crashed! Get paramedics to the scene!”_

The sound of screeching metal is unforgettable. It shoots up spines and skitters along teeth, setting them into a grinding edge that could crush diamonds. Tim has heard the sound of cars crashing more than enough times to be able to distinguish exactly how the car was hit and at what speeds. All those times, however, it was never his car involved.

Instincts only born from being trained by Batman allowed Tim to get out of the car a live. Although, throwing himself out of the window of a crashing vehicle meant that he was going to have some serious bruises. His body slammed against the pavement, sending shock waves through his body. He heard, more than felt, something snap on his right side.

His world was spinning and dangerously dark but he couldn’t dwell on it. The other car, he had to get to the other car. He pulled himself to his feet, willing his feet to work normally.

Had he always tilted to the left? He’d have to ask Bruce.

“Are you okay?” He called through the shattered windshield. “Hello? Please talk to me!” He pressed a hand to the metal, immediately pulling it away. The metal was molten to the touch and the jagged edges caught at his skin. Suppressing a curse, he dropped to his knees and crawled to the window.

When did the car flip over? He glanced at his, wondering why his hadn’t.

“Hello?” He called again, tapping on the glass. It crumbled under his touch. “Anyone there?” His eyes dropped and a second later so did his stomach.

Dead bodies was nothing new. Working with Batman meant that he had seen bodies in a variety of ways. Even ways he didn’t think was physically possible. But, finding victims was completely different from being the one who put them there.

“Oh no,” he breathed, his arms shaking.

A hand landed on his shoulder. “Young man,” a voice called. “Are you okay?”

He jerked and looked up. A paramedic was standing over him, clearly wanting to check his health. He shuddered, gaze inevitably drawn back to the body. “No,” he answered, his voice cracking.

The paramedic knelt down. “Come on, kid. I have to get you to the ambulance. Do you have an emergency contact. Someone I can get down here.”

The idea of Batman, Bruce, finding out he’d killed someone made Tim want to burst into tears. His throat tightened and shivers wracked his body. “I-I do,” he managed to gasp out. “It’s 555-467-5553.” He felt like solid glass and liquid all at the same time. His body had no idea what to do with itself.

“Who is the contact,” the paramedic asked patiently, curling a hand around Tim’s arm.

“Dick,” he answered, letting himself be hauled to his feet.

—

“Officer Grayson? What are you doing here?” The paramedic asked, looking up from his search of Tim’s wounds.

The police officer lifted an eyebrow. “I was called,” he answered, a weak smile pulling at his face.

“You’re his Dick?”

Despite the situation, Dick had to snort a laugh. It was short lived however. “May I see him?” He asked in hushed tones.

The paramedic hesitated before nodding and moving away. Tim was seated on the back of the ambulance, clutching a brilliant orange blanket around his shoulders. His cheek bone looked swollen and a massive bruise covered his jaw. From the way he stared at the ground, he might have a concussion as well.

“Timmy?” Dick whispered, stepping in front of the young male. “Tim, you okay?”

Tim’s eyes snapped to Dick’s face. It was unnerving to be starred at so intensely. Only Bruce had the right to look at people like that. “I killed him,” he stated, never moving his gaze from Dick’s face. “He’s dead because of me.”

“No! Tim, no!” Dick dropped his hands to cup Tim’s face. He pulled the shivering boy to his chest. “You didn’t. It was an accident. He was running from the police.”

“I did, Dick! I did,” Tim groaned into his shirt. “I should have seen him coming. I should have moved.”

Dick’s eyes closed and he frowned. “Tim, you didn’t do anything–”

“Exactly! I did nothing and now he is dead!” Tim pulled back to glare at Dick.

They stared at each other, one furious the other silently calming. Finally, Dick shook his head, moving his arms to wrap around Tim’s shoulders. He pulled Tim back against him.

“Tim… Shhh, I’ve got you,” he said, soothing. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You were obeying the laws, he wasn't. Better him than someone innocent.”

The fight drained out of Tim. He slumped against Dick, letting himself fall into the embrace. Even if Dick didn’t believe it was his fault, he could at least bury himself in the warmth and try to forget.


	2. Chapter 2

It didn’t take much effort to get Tim into his patrol car. In fact, Dick barely had to point in the vague direction of his vehicle before Tim was stumbling off and throwing himself into the seat.

The paramedic stopped Dick before he could leave. “He doesn’t have any serious injuries, apart from a sprained elbow and bruised wrist. Make sure he’s careful with it,” he explained, handing Dick some medical grade gauze. Just another roll he could add to his personal collection at home.

“Thanks Brad,” he said, giving him a smile. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Traffic hadn’t changed for the accident. It was still thick, strong and full of angry individuals. Dick sighed, dropping his arm out the window and leaning back against his chair. He attempted to explain one more time how the other driver was running from the police; that there was a very good chance that the criminal might have hit someone else. While Dick mourned any loss of life, he couldn't honestly say that he felt bad that the man was gone. He glanced at Tim out of the corner of his eye. The younger male was curled up in the front seat, staring out of the windshield.

“So, what movie did you want to watch tonight?” He asked as smoothly as possible.

Silence. He'd been getting that for most of the ride.

“How about that new one, oh what’s it called…?” He paused, drumming his fingers on the edge of the wheel. “The one with the Norse god. From a comic…” He shot a look at Tim again.

There was only more silence.

“I think it’s got that woman from the Swan movie. And Boot Strap Bill from Pirates!” He said excitedly, glad he could remember something. Tim, however, remained unaffected. With a huff, Dick slumped against his seat. “I still have no idea what it’s called.”

The obnoxiously orange blanket shifted. “Thor.”

Dick perked up, worry flashing briefly over his face. “You’re sore?

Tim’s laugh was so sudden and so shocking that Dick almost slammed his foot into the break. Only reflects granted by Batman stopped him. He turned his head to stare at Tim, wide eyed and bewildered.

“The movie, it’s called Thor,” Tim explained, a smile twitching about his lips.

“Oh.” Dick looked back to the road. After a moment he laughed. “Okay. Want to watch it?”

“Sure,” Tim sighed.

—

“Make yourself at home,” Dick said as per usual.

And, like normal, Tim sat himself on the couch while Dick went into the kitchen to grab drinks for the both of them. Although, this time, Tim shoved himself into the corner furthest from the window and balled himself up, as if he was trying to be as small and invisible as possible. It made Dick pause on his way out of the kitchen. He sighed heavily, setting the drinks on the coffee table.

“I’m going to go change. You can… Hang,” he said, awkwardly hoping Tim would say something. This had to be the first time that Tim’s silence bothered Dick.

Tim nodded and Dick turned into his bedroom.

It took longer than was strictly needed to change out of his uniform and into sweatpants. But, that was to be expected when he was thinking on how to make Tim cheer up. Just as he slipped a t-shirt over his head, a brilliant idea popped into his mind. All his effort was used on trying to keep it off his face.

Dick sauntered out of the bedroom, barely pausing when he noticed that Tim hadn’t moved. He strolled across his apartment toward the couch. With a sound of utter disappointment, he flopped on top of the smaller male.

“Dick!” Tim squawked, trying to shift out of his ball, but Dick’s body prevented him from it. “Dick, what’re you doing?”

“You’re so mopey!” He stated, rolling his body so his chin rested against the top of Tim’s head. To anyone looking through the window, it would appear that Dick was simply sprawled out on his couch, resting an a particularly lumpy pillow. “It’s so depressing. Come on, man.”

A strange noise caught in the back of his throat. Dick knew that if he looked, Tim would be glaring at him. Instead, he shifted and pressed his lips against the others.

This time, there came a noise of surprise.

Dick shifted again, no long laying on top of Tim sitting over him. He pulled back, expression softening. “Cheer up for me, Tim.”

For a long moment, Tim stared at him. Then, slowly, he uncurled himself under Dick and tilted his head to recapture Dick’s mouth. His hand moved from under the blanket to curl around Dick’s shirt.

Dick hummed, pleased he had gotten Tim out of his shell. He snaked a hand under the blanket to rest against Tim’s chest. Under his fingers, he could feel Tim’s heart flutter at the contact. He wanted to feel Tim shiver. The bold hand moved under Tim’s shirt, stroking over heated flesh and picking out all the places that Dick knew made him squirm.

Tim gasped into the kiss, wanting to pull back, but Dick only followed him down.

The back of Tim’s head bumped against the arm of the couch. Hesitantly, he let himself relax against it. Something in the back of his mind said it was twisted how much he wanted to be touched right now. But a small something else told him he needed this. He needed protection and warmth. He needed Dick’s touch.

Apparently, Dick took that as a sign to press closer. How the acrobat managed to settle between his legs, he wasn’t quite sure.

“Getting happier?” Dick asked, pulling out of the kiss briefly.

Tim arched an eyebrow. Dick laughed, the sound vibrating through Tim’s body and warming him to the core like no blanket could.

“I guess I’ll have to work harder.”

Hard work came in the form of bites to his jaw and that hand moving down. He couldn’t help but shiver against the touches. There was no one that could make Tim’s body heat and thrum with life like Dick could. Dick’s hand traced and teased every bit of sensitive skin that existed; while his mouth trailed across harsh scars with a gentleness that made them sing.

“Dick…” He murmured, annoyed with how small his voice came out.

Dick paused to look at him. “Is something wrong? Am I doing something wrong?” He asked and all the worry in his face made Tim smile.

“No. I just wanted to tell you to never stop,” he said, drawing a hand up to Dick’s face and pulling their mouths back together. “Ever,” he whispered.

That seemed to be the cue for Dick to move both hands to Tim’s hips. His thumbs pressed against the smooth skin. One hand dipped to cup against his jeans, he arched toward the pressure. And he was granted with more. The hand rubbed against him, shifting up and down. Sparks of pleasure shot up his spine at every move.

Tim moaned, pulling away and arching. It had been far too long since he had done anything like this. His hands dropped to Dick’s shoulders, tightening around them.

“Dick, could… Could you do more?”

His answer was a brilliant smile. “For you, Tim, I’d do everything.”

He snorted but didn’t get a chance to utter a sharp reply before that hand disappeared under his waist band and curled around hardened flesh. Instead, he groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips rolled against the callused palm.

“You’re taking all the work, Timmy,” Dick cooed, his hand stroking over Tim’s manhood.

“S-sorry,” Tim breathed, stilling his hips.

Dick leaned against him, nipping at his ear. “Don’t be, I think it’s cute,” he soothed, his hand tightening and making Tim gasp for a large number of reasons.

Before Dick could stroke much longer, Tim stopped him. “Wait, wait,” he panted. “I want… I want something else.” If he wasn’t flushed before, he certainly was now. And he was having a rather hard time keeping his gaze on Dick’s face.

“What do you want?” Dick asked, biting at his jaw again.

“Well… You,” he replied.

Dick huffed a laugh, watching the goosebumps rise over Tim’s skin. “You have me. But, in any way specific?”

Tim wriggled under him, looking nervous. “I want… I want you…” He swallowed, glaring at Dick’s couch. Normally so eloquent with words, Tim just couldn’t get himself to say it. Instead, he opted for the subtle approach. He shifted his legs wide and arch his hips up. “T-that.”

Dick’s eyes widened then slid down into a sly expression. “Oh, Timmy, I didn’t know you wanted me that way,” he teased. At the glare, he laughed and dipped over the side of the couch. A second later, he sat back up holding a bottle of oil.

“Do you just have them all over your apartment?” Tim asked, staring at Dick.

“Yup. Can never be too prepared,” he sing-songed, flipping the lid of the bottle open and tilting it over.

The cool liquid splashed over Tim’s skin, making him hiss and writhe. Once Dick felt there was enough, he dipped his fingers into the oil and trailed it over Tim’s entrance. Without waiting, he pressed two fingers inside.

Tim cursed but didn’t pull away. To this day Dick hadn’t hurt him and never would. He willed himself to relax a task made easier by the fact that Dick had shoved his shirt up and started to stroke his stomach. In a strange sort of way, it made him calm; chased the monsters away.

Soon, Tim was moaning and pushing against the fingers. But it wasn’t until he rolled his hips and spread his legs further that Dick knew he was ready. He pulled his fingers away and sat back to pull off his sweatpants.

“Don’t look so disappointed, Timmy, I’m coming back,” he said leaning forward “I always do.” He pressed against Tim and locked their mouths together at the same moment he shoved his hips forward.

Capturing Tim’s cry was always delicious. It rolled down his throat better than any wine. And the way Tim’s hips snapped up to meet his only made it that much sweeter. Dick loved the way Tim moved under him, how loud his moans got and how wonderfully, he scratched at Dick’s back constantly pulling with every thrust. Few people could satisfy Dick the way Tim could. Right now, he couldn’t even name one.

“Fuck, Tim,” he ground out, thrusting into the velvet heat. “How long has it been? You’re so tight.”

Tim’s answer was a sharp cry. His hands gripped Dick’s shoulders and he arched against his chest.

Dick’s hips tilted and the pace spiked. Below him, Tim was almost screaming with every thrust. Each moment sent him arching and writhing against Dick. They both knew they weren’t going to last long, but neither of them cared. When it felt this good and perfect, they would take what they got.

Very soon, Tim’s body stilled and his cry hit the ceiling. His essence splashed against the stomachs.

A harsh groan was ripped from Dick’s lips. The tight heat that only belonged to Tim, clamped around him, making it impossible to move. His body shook and he couldn’t stop himself from spilling into the tight heat. Weak, shaking arms held him above Tim while he spent himself.

“Tim,” he panted, dropping bonelessly against his chest.

With a distinct lack of wanting to move, Tim moved his arms up around Dick’s shoulders, holding him close. “Thank you,” he whispered over their pounding hearts.

Dick smiled against Tim’s chest. “I told you, Tim. I would do anything for you.”


End file.
